


Training Day

by April_Valentine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara Stanton isn't a nice person. Canonically, we've seen her try to take Reese into the dark with her. This is one other step she takes to control him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Day

**Author's Note:**

> "Training Day" is the first part in a series title "Dark City" -- each story can be read on its own.
> 
>  
> 
> I saw this scenario in my head as I slept with the episode "Matsya Nyaya" of season one Person of Interest playing in the background. Not my usual fare, so I'm not sure where it came from exactly. It was early in my obsession with the show, just after I got the boxed set of dvds. It's gone through several revisions from my first attempt at writing it. I think it's now more obvious than ever that Stanton wanted to control Reese in many ways.
> 
> I've labelled it dub-con because Reese doesn't have much choice in the matter.

Dark City 

A series of Person of Interest stories set in a darker universe. 

 

“Training Day”

by April Valentine

_January, 2010_

 

Reese came to slowly. His mind was fuzzy, his sight uncoordinated. He couldn't even remember being knocked out....

Wait, it must have been in that drink Kara had given him. The realization brought him the rest of the way around. He tried to move and only then became aware of his position. He was face down on a mattress. He couldn't move his legs... what the hell?

He jerked, trying to turn his head to see what was going on. He was in the same hotel room he remembered and wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. 

"Kara!" he yelled, letting his annoyance show.

"Oh, darn," she drawled sweetly. "I thought you'd be out longer, lover." 

She grasped his right wrist and pulled it toward the headboard. He heard the unmistakable zwoosh of rope being pulled and looped. He felt the rough hemp wrap tightly around his wrist, then the creak of it being twisted around the upright at the head of the bed. That was followed by the rope being stretched further and tied around his biceps.

He blinked, trying to get his vision to clear. When he could see a bit better, he saw that his left arm was already bound to the bed in a similar fashion. Trying to move his legs again told him what he'd already guessed, he was spread eagled, naked. 

"Kara, what the fuck are you doing?" he grated. 

Her hand stroked through his hair. "Don't worry, John. It's just training."

"What kind of training requires you knock me out and tie me down?" he demanded. Kara Stanton had always been unpredictable. She enjoyed getting under Reese's skin, needling him, testing him. And she never missed any opportunity to try to crush any remaining humanity out of him. He knew operatives needed to be cold blooded to do what they did, but she seemed to take particular pleasure in her total lack of conscience. No wonder she was such a good agent.

"It's for the mission you're going on," she replied in her silky voice. "We told you Murad Shadid is gay, didn't we? What did you think you were going to have to do to... gain his confidence?"

John didn't answer. He supposed he'd realized on some level that he would be called upon to have sex with the man. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had sex with an asset or target. But most of the previous ones had been women. There had been a couple of men, but all John had done with them had been a few hand jobs, a little mutual frottage. And some oral sex, which he'd managed to both give and receive without them thinking he wasn't into it. Truth be told, when he was in the frame of mind to think that much about it, being with a man was good in some ways. Simple, uncomplicated, unemotional. There were no pretenses, and each person got something he wanted, and ending up feeling good in the process. And didn't expect anything more or give weight to it when there didn't have to be any.

"And you know these Arab men. They don't bottom, John." 

"So what?" He'd learned the lessons about bluffing well. Now he affected the attitude that he was completely bored by being tied up this way.

"Well, we know you haven't had a man before. Not that way at least," Kara purred. "You're good, John, but you know there really isn't any way to fake having been fucked up the ass before. Shadid would be able to immediately tell that you were a virgin in that... area... so to speak." She ran a manicured hand over his bare ass. John could feel the sharp points of her nails.

"So, what do you plan on doing? Unless you've been hiding something these last couple of years, I don't think you've got what it takes to provide me with the practice you seem to think I need." John put as much derision into the comment as he could.

Kara just chuckled. "Well, Mark and I did flip for it," she said softly. 

His blood ran cold at the sound of Mark Snow's name. As much as he often felt he could never fully trust Kara, he was certain Snow was someone he would always have to be careful around. While Snow didn't seem to take as much glee in killing as Stanton did, his morals were more completely...flat. He usually registered no emotion whatsoever, whether he was debriefing an agent after a mission or blowing someone's brains out. 

The only times Mark showed feelings of any kind were when Reese was alone with him. Then he seemed to be just a touch warmer in his interactions, as though he were trying to indicate that he cared about Reese. With Mark, Reese maintained the other man's impression that, off the clock, they were good friends and on it that Snow was still his superior but that they had a trusting relationship. Or at least as trusting as anyone in their line of work could be trusted. 

Kara was a different matter. After enough taunts about whether he was some kind of boy scout or efficient killer, after getting sick of her demanding to know if he loved his job -- as much as she did, if he got the same turn on from killing -- Reese had finally crossed the line and gone to bed with her. While that had seemed to at least temporarily satisfy her, and had the benefit of her digging at him less about whether or not he was still 'human,' she pretty much expected that after a mission, they'd sleep together. More often than not, Reese was willing. Not so much as an expression of affection for her; it helped take the images of the bodies he was responsible for out of his head. But in crossing that line with Stanton, he knew it had made him more vulnerable to her mind games and power plays. Like now. He'd forgotten that she was as likely to put poison in any drink she offered as ice cubes, and let her put him in this vulnerable position. Why she hadn't just told him what she thought he needed to know... or do... instead of setting up the whole bondage scenario was beyond Reese. But then, most of Kara's thinking was beyond him. Usually, he was glad not to understand the way her mind worked.

Kara stepped close and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry, John. We're alone."

"Look, Kara," he said, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. "Just let me up."

"No. Can't do that, John," she said, moving away. "You'll thank me. This could save your life, you know."

"You think Shadid is going to want to tie me up?" he asked, putting as much sarcasm in his voice as possible. Stanton didn't answer. John drew a breath, taking her silence as a 'no.' "So why slip me whatever was in that drink? Why tie me up like this?"

Stanton just chuckled. He could hear her moving around the room. Listening closely, he caught the rustle of fabric, as though she were removing her clothes. He thought he could hear the sound of leather and the clink of a belt being buckled. That was followed by what sounded like latex gloves being pulled on.

"Kara, what are you -- ?" His voice cut off as he felt something cold and wet being drizzled over his ass. 

"I already told you, John. Training you." Just like when she was about to shoot someone, Kara sounded like she was enjoying herself, happy to be doing something devious and nasty.

Kara rubbed the liquid over his exposed ass. "Just relax. You might enjoy this." She massaged gently but unhesitatingly between his cheeks, touching him intimately in a place she hadn't before. After playing around awhile, she slipped a gloved finger into him.

"What the fuck -- ?" he sputtered in shock, annoyed with himself for the reaction. It wasn't as if what she had just done was completely unexpected. But the suddenness...

"Exactly." Sounding smug, Stanton added a second finger, rubbing and twisting them inside him. 

Despite his resistance, Reese's nerve endings reacted to the stroking and pressure. Heat pooled in Reese's gut, arousal combined with embarrassment. "You... could have... told me... " he managed, as Kara added a third finger, starting to gently thrust them in and out of his ass.

"John," she said as though trying to remain very patient. "You and I both know you wouldn't have said yes to something like this."

Reese gritted his teeth. "I'm not saying yes now."

"Oh well." She continued to probe his ass with her fingers. "Come on, admit it, John. It's not that bad. I'm enjoying it. Aren't you?"

"Fuck you."

Kara laughed. "Oh, John. Just the opposite." 

After a moment, Kara whispered, nearly to herself, "Maybe this will help." With the fingers of one hand occupied, Kara used the other to reach down and begin fondling John's cock and balls. He realized that when she'd put him on the bed and tied him up, she'd purposely made sure his dick was pulled down between his legs. Now, her gloved hand, slick from lubricant, began fondling him, providing stimulation that he didn't want and which didn't serve to distract him enough from what the fingers of her other hand were doing.

"I know how to do this, John," Kara told him in a breathy whisper. "So don't think so much. Just feel. You'll like it." She pulled her fingers out of his ass and then, with both hands, stroked his cock in earnest a few times.

It felt good. Reese was only human. But he refused to give in. When he had sex, it was when he wanted to, even if it was because of the job. Or with Stanton.

“John,” she said after a moment, “we have intel that Shadid does like to tie up his partners.”

“Right,” he scoffed. 

“John... “ She leaned down and breathed along his cock, then lifted up and let her breath tickle where her fingers had been. She knew John liked that. “Remember that time in Berlin? When you almost bought it? And I got there in time and shot the guy who was holding you prisoner?”

Reese remembered. And he knew where she was going, but he didn’t answer.

“And you were tied up in that chair,” Kara continued, her voice dropping to the register she knew turned him on. “and you liked what I did...”

He had. He hated to admit it, but when Kara had unzipped his pants without cutting him free and went down on him, he’d come harder than he had in a long time. He’d told himself that it was the adrenaline.

“Kara, getting tied up is part of work. I don’t want sex to be like work,” he tried to explain.

“John,” Kara purred, “A kink is a kink, lover. Just go with it. I don’t judge.”  
She stopped playing with his balls and ran her hands down his legs to where the ropes wrapped around his ankles, stroking over the bonds and sliding her fingers over the arch of his foot. Slowly, she caressed up his legs to his thighs and returned her attentions to his dick. 

He’d have preferred it if she had kept her hands on the parts he liked her to touch. Maybe it would have worked if he’d had time to process the idea, to wrap his head around doing something he hadn’t thought he’d ever do. After all, he’d gotten his head around the idea of walking into a room and shooting an unarmed man just because he had orders to.... 

She drizzled more lube over his exposed ass, rubbing and stroking with more care and attention, working her fingers in and out. John sighed. His mind might not be convinced but his body was getting used to the idea. Her fingers going in and out, teasingly, searching out nerve endings he hadn’t known could feel so good. Deep down, a part of him he hadn’t ever met before wanted more. His ass was feeling looser, open, needy.

Then Kara chuckled. “I knew it. You’re starting to want this...”

The bubble burst. He swallowed hard, his mind snapping back to reality. He didn’t want this. Not this way. He pulled his initial anger back. She’d fucking knocked him out, tied him up and all for some ‘training’ that he probably wasn’t even going to need. It was probably all a lie....

"Stop it, Kara," he said, putting menace in his tone.

Kara didn't answer, but when her hands left him, he thought he'd convinced her. But she didn't move away. Instead, she knelt on the bed, straddling his thighs. He heard the container of lubricant being opened again, and the sound of the stuff being slathered on something. A moment later, her hands came back, gripping his ass. They tugged in opposite directions, opening him. Then, he felt something new. Round, hard, slippery... she rested it at the entrance to his body. Just for a moment. it circled his opening, nudging shivers out of the nerves she’d stimulated with her fingers. Then, still saying nothing, Stanton began pushing, just a little, gently.

For a second, he didn't understand. If both her hands were on him, how...? Then he realized. She must be... wearing it.

Fresh heat flushed his entire body. He couldn't picture... but oh, he could. Though he didn't love her in the least, and didn't really respect her, he did find Stanton attractive, dark where Jessica had been light, hard when Jess had been soft and sweet. They'd had some good times in bed, had made each other feel good. She'd done things John had only fantasized about, without his ever even suggesting them, and liked to take charge in the bedroom. And John hadn't objected, so when he thought of it that way, this wasn't so weird. And, he admitted silently, the idea of that lithe body of hers with leather hugging her hips and that... thing... protruding... Reese's mouth went dry. 

He could do this, he decided. If he let the image in his head get him actually turned on, maybe he could do this. He could get it over with at least. And it wasn't as if he hadn't let her take him to some other kinky places before this. 

"That's it," Kara said, her voice soft and deep, tinged with excitement. "Uhn..." she groaned, pushing harder, for real this time.

The pain was unexpected. Strange. He tried to move, but he was tied too tightly. Her fingers dug into his ass and the pressure continued. 

"Kara," he grated. "I’m not...”

"Shut up, John," Kara said, her voice dropping into that low and deadly timbre he'd heard many times just before she shot someone. She shifted position, leaning forward, her knees digging into the mattress, hugging his hips. Slowly, without letting up, she kept pushing, gradually filling him.

He groaned. His whole body glowed with shame and heat. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He'd been trained not to admit to pain. But this was different. Deeper. Sharper. More confusing. Because it wasn’t really pain. 

"Please... " He blinked, eyes stinging from the perspiration. "Kara..."

“You can do it, John,” she whispered. She drew back slightly, pulling out, and John’s body cried at the loss. Missing the invader as much as he’d thought he’d disliked it. 

Kara shifted, her hips pushing forward, making the dildo slide into Reese again. He gasped, his system reacting at the harsh flood of pleasure. God, this wasn’t who he was. He didn’t know this man, who was tied up and being fucked by his female handler. Didn’t recognize the stranger in his skin that wanted to know what taking it deeper would feel like.

The thing must be huge. He felt stretched, opened, transformed. Another groan was ripped from him but the relentless pushing didn't end. He could hear Stanton's harsh breathing, in counterpoint to his own, but she was otherwise silent, intent. At last, he felt her body close up against him, felt the hard rubber surface of artificial balls against his ass and heard her sigh.

"There. All the way in. Feel it, John. That's what a cock feels like inside you." She sounded pleased, the way she did when she told him to get rid of a dead body.

He drew a breath. When he spoke, he tried to sound as normal as possible. "Okay. Fine. You've made your point. Let me up now." He just wanted up, wanted to end this. Stop the conflicting feelings shooting from his ass to his brain, sensations warring with emotions.

"Oh, John." Her hand slid into his hair, stroking, petting. "You're always such a spoil sport." Then the softness left her voice. "Besides, training's not finished."

With that, she began thrusting.

If Reese had though he was confused before, he learned he'd been mistaken. Kara rode him like an expert, fucking him with the dildo she wore, groaning and panting as if she were actually enjoying the act. She kept her hand tight in his hair, pressing his face into the mattress. He struggled, unable to breath, unable to think. He thought he'd pass out from lack of oxygen, from the pleasure and confusion. His ass was burning, throbbing, wanting more, not wanting it at all, accepting, rejecting, losing all sense of himself. His hands clenched on the blankets, the bonds cutting into his wrists and ankles, compounding his humiliation and it all seemed to add to the heat.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breath. What was she going for, erotic asphyxiation?

Finally, as he frantically wondered if he’d ever be the same, he did lose consciousness. 

He came to moments later, Kara's hand slapping his face. He opened his eyes to the sight of her bending over him.

"There you are. Sorry about that. I guess I got a little carried away." She didn't sound sorry in the least.

"Let me up, Kara." He tried to put deadly intent into the words, to cover the pleading he knew must be in his eyes.

She shook her head. "Not yet. You didn't like it enough."

"I don't need to like it," he muttered. "Let me up."

"Sorry." She stretched languidly and for the first time he had a full view of what she was wearing. Just a black bra and the strap on. The belt was black leather and the dildo was a realistic fleshy color. The sight was as arousing as it had been in his imagination but instead of helping, it only made his stomach clench. 

Kara followed his gaze, stroking the fake cock. "You do need to like it." She reached for his head, turning his face to rest on the mattress so that he wasn't as likely to be smothered. "So we're going to do this again." She was smiling, enjoying this all too much. 

"But..." he began, but he didn't even think she heard him.

"We're going to do this again, and again, and again... as long as it takes for you to get used to it and to like having a big, hard cock fuck you up the ass. Until you come, John."

She smiled, but the look wasn't pleasant. She moved away from the bed, returning in a moment to slide her arm under John's waist, raising his hips. "Maybe this will make it better," she said, almost to herself. She then grasped Reese's cock and balls, dripping more lube over them, rubbing and stroking until he was fully hard. She was good, knowing his sweet spots, what he liked. The arousal hit him again. When Stanton seemed satisfied with his erection, she slid a pillow under John's hips, making sure that his hardness was trapped there. Then she climbed on the bed behind him again. 

He knew she was slicking it with more lube, rubbing her hands up and down the fake cock and his ass quivered in anticipation, his mind reeling. 

Just as he thought he couldn’t stand to wait another second, she slid deeply into him again, not slowly this time, but hard, fast, all the way. 

Reese had been trained to resist interrogation, pain, torture. He'd been through a lot in the Rangers, in SERE training, with the CIA. He called on that training to block out the emotional connotations of what Kara was doing to him, but the overwhelming lust burning through him made it impossible. Aroused as his body was, his mind was battling shame and shock. He hadn’t thought he’d like it, hadn’t wanted to like it, and now all he knew was that he didn’t recognize the man she was creating as she fucked him harder and harder. It was as if she'd finally won, taken that last shred of his free will from him, made him her robot. There had been many parts of his training that had been unpleasant. But he’d recognized that he had to get through them, learn and make them work for him, make him stronger.

This was different. More intensely pleasurable than he could have imagined but it wasn’t making him stronger. He didn’t know what it was making him, wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

It went on and on, his body unable to resist, shuddering and writhing, craving it deeper, harder. He moaned, heard his own voice, raw with passion, gasp out, “please...” but he wasn’t asking Kara to stop any more. His hips ground against the pillow, his cock straining for more sensation. His ass lifted into the thrusts as Stanton fucked him, his body wanting what his mind refused. Her hand snaked under him, taking hold of his straining shaft. And finally, when he came as she jerked his cock while thrusting into his ass as hard and fast as she could, something broke inside Reese.

Kara pulled out of him, her hand milking his cock, drawing out shudders of completion from his shocked body. She produced a towel and wiped the sweat from his eyes, from his back and shoulders, then mopped the lube and sweat from his ass. She untied the ropes, moving his arms and legs and rolling him to his side. He hardly registered the intense pins and needles as circulation was restored to his aching limbs. She used a wet wash cloth to clean the semen from his abdomen. 

"All done, John. You did good," she praised.

Reese opened his eyes and tried to focus on her. "I'm going to kill you," he said. He knew it was an empty threat, but he wanted to kill someone, maybe himself. And he would, if he wasn’t already dead.

"No, you're not," Kara replied cheerfully. She leaned down and kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth. Spent, he barely reacted, but she didn't seem to either notice or mind. 

She stepped away. John drifted, so ravaged that he hardly cared what she was doing, so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open.

He could hear voices. The must be coming from the hallway. That's right. they were in a hotel. Other people were outside the room, going about their business. Reese wondered vaguely if it was night or day. The drapes were closed; he couldn't tell. It was dark in the room, though. Darker than before, he thought. He wasn't sure. But hours could have passed. There was a car horn, distant. They were on the fifth floor, he remembered. 

"Wow," a voice said. Closer than the ones in the hall, but he couldn't focus enough to tell where it was coming from or recognize it.

"Thanks. Told you I could get the job done."

"I never really had any doubt.” It was a man's voice. Familiar somehow.

Kara chuckled. There was the clink of ice dropping into a glass, but Reese wasn’t sure if it was coming from inside the room or somewhere else. 

She moved close to him again and he thought about leaping from the bed to grab her by the throat, to make her tell him who he was now. But his trembling arms and legs wouldn't cooperate; they'd been restrained too long. His whole body ached, his whole being. 

"Get some rest, John," Kara told him, her voice sweet and kind, with a gentleness he knew he couldn't trust. She held a glass to his lips and he sipped gratefully at the chilled water she offered. He hadn’t realized how parched his throat had been until then.

More ice cubes clacked together, confusing Reese. He started to who was there, what was going on, but lethargy swept through him and he felt himself being pulled under. Exhaustion and confusion and sex were an effective drug, it seemed. Being dismantled and put back together into someone unrecognizable was too. He wanted to resist, to hang on for just a little while, but everything began to slip away.

The room was getting even darker. He couldn't see, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Maybe he was dying. Or already asleep. Dreaming that this had been just a dream.

He heard the other voice, one more time. A husky, sex-laden whisper. "I gotta tell you," it declared in a low drawl. "That was fuckin' hot, Stanton."

It was Mark's voice, Reese realized as he spiraled down into emptiness.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> This was written well before "Prisoner's Dilemma" and I was glad that the episode didn't joss my idea. I only added a line or two to indicate that Reese and Stanton had had sex before the events of the story.


End file.
